"Keep Calm and Marry On..."

Ah, true love...is there anything more uplifting or encouraging? To think that one couple's relationship can change their world, and perhaps change ours?  The Wedding was May 25, and I have to say it went better than I expected.  Every wedding has "stories"; the little things that happen and create anecdotes that last forever.  If your wedding is "perfect", you probably spent too much time worrying about the day instead of what it means to be married.  But that's just me.  Brian and Liz had an absolutely beautiful day, and a lovely ceremony with family and good friends, as they hoped for. Was it the party to end all parties as we would have liked? No, of course not.  But who cares? It was fun, we were with people we loved, we enjoyed each other's company, the pictures will be spectacular, and that's really all that mattered. It brought back memories of our own wedding, almost 35 years ago - looking at Brian at the top of the aisle reminded me of looking at Tim when I was the one processing. And now, I'm the one watching, gaining the daughter we never had. I wish for them every joy and happiness they dream of, and not as much of the other stuff, although I know it will come.

"Starting here, starting now, when we walk, we'll walk together, year by year, starting here...."

It's been quite a while since I visited to write. The reasons don't matter much, except to me.  Suffice it to say that I've been somewhat bruised, and it's taken me this long to feel brave enough to continue.

Our son is getting married on Saturday. If you want to be picky, he's already married - he and Liz had a civil ceremony in November, which I described in a previous post. This one will be in a church, which surprises me no end.  Not because they don't believe in marriage as a sacrament, but because Brian tends to have issues with authority, and the Catholic Church is nothing if not authoritative. But it's what they wanted, and that's fine with me. As I've said before, I'm a sucker for weddings, be they in a church, on a beach, at a winery, whatever. So I'll go to as many as I'm invited to, and they've been nice enough to invite me to this one!

I can't wait to see him in a tux. Or, for that matter, see his dad and his brother in tuxes. That's another thing that makes me drool - guys in tuxes. And my three guys are handsome in raggy old jeans, so the tux thing can only make it better! At the same time, I know that vision will reduce me to tears; passage of time, handing over the baton, all that stuff. I will miss my family of origin.  Mom & Dad have "mezzanine seats", but none of my siblings or Brian's McCarthy cousins could afford to make the trip - a combination of no money or new babies, or more likely, both. So the only McCarthy representatives will be my Chicago cousins and their spouses, all of whom I adore, and who have known me since I was a pup, and known Brian for the last few years. So that will ease my loneliness somewhat.

And then there are those Deans.....Tim's family will be there in droves. Every single sibling and spouse, and one of Bri's cousins - the first Dean grandchild. And I REALLY love those guys - we are guaranteed to have a blast even if no one else shows up! I know it will all go too quickly, and by Sunday we'll all be thoroughly exhausted. But this is a family milestone. And I just gotta be there. Pictures and stories to follow....

"....When will they ever learn?...."

Like just about everyone else in the country this morning, I am reeling and shell-shocked after yesterday, the worst and largest mass shooting in our country's history. It is ludicrous to try to apply logic to something that is so outside the bounds of normal, acceptable behavior. We try nonetheless. But there is simply no logical explanation for what happened yesterday.  A child is born, snuggled in his mother's arms, grows up, and whether due to poor parenting, a tragically miswired brain, or the cumulative effect of a million small hurts and injustices, he struggles with enough mental health issues that his solution is to massacre 20 small children and their protectors. Insanity.

There are as many reactions and explanations as there are citizens of this country, but none of them matter right this minute. What matters are the 26 families who have had normalcy eliminated from their lives, who have lost the bright light of a child or the love and leadership of a parent, whose lives can never be the same again. What matters are the survivors, children and responders, whose lives will never be the same again.  The innocence of those children has been snuffed, their future Christmases tainted if not ruined, their sense of trust and safety blown to bits. The responders - God bless their unbelievably brave souls - will be haunted by those images in their brains forever.  Such unspeakable violence is hideous enough when it happens to adults, as it mostly does; but the idea of 20 sweet little souls who were caught completely off-guard in the place that was a haven for them, huddled with their friends and teachers, is simply nauseating and beyond comprehension. And still we bicker back and forth about what constitutes personal freedom. Personally, I think no one needs to own assault weapons, whether they have that right or not. Why would anyone want an assault weapon except to wreak carnage? Don't tell me you'll use it in self-defense - that would require carrying it cocked and ready 24/7. Also ludicrous.

We have to stop being so obsessed with violence, with weaponry, with misplaced anger before we utterly and completely destroy our society. When will we admit that mutual destruction is not the answer, that if one innocent life is lost in the name of gun ownership, it is one too many? When will we value our children, not to mention ourselves, enough to say that their safety from randomly used weapons is worth relinquishing one's "right" to own guns?

This needs to end. Stop. Right now.  Here, today. No posturing, debating, invoking the 2nd amendment, or any other stupidity. Get rid of the guns, now. And stop murdering our children.

"Where have all the graveyards gone, gone to flowers, everyone....when will they ever learn? 

When will they ever learn?"

"Is this the little girl I carried.....is this the little boy at play...."

This blogging thing is obviously addicting, because lately I've felt yearnings to get back to it after a couple months away.....and what a couple of months they've been.....

As of Friday, November 9th, I have a married son.  I am a mother-in-law, and Tim is a father-in-law.  This monumental evolution occurred at a civil ceremony at Kenosha County Courthouse in Wisconsin. The whole story behind it is long, complicated, and not easily understood by me, but as long as they're happy, that's really all I care about. I think.

The costs of the impending May 2013 ceremony were rapidly spiraling out of control, so Brian and I had a conversation to spell out what we could pay for, and what we expected them to cover.  That was fine, no problem.  But the next day, he sent me one of the most beautiful emails I've ever read, that said they just could not find a way to make those expenses work, and rather than have us go into additional debt after buying their house, they would simply go to the courthouse - they didn't need a fancy party, all they needed was each other.  I was elated to think that some of what we tried to teach our sons actually took.  Of course, I was disappointed - we've already talked about how much I LOVE weddings!  But I've had mine - as well as renewals - and so this was not about me.  We told them that it was a very mature decision, and we respected their wishes.  Eventually, they asked if they could still do the spring ceremony at church with a scaled back reception, and of course, we agreed. So the planning continued.

About three weeks later, I happened to ask if they'd set a date for the courthouse ceremony.......there was a LONG pregnant pause on the other end of the phone...."well, yeah, it's November 9th..."  Well, dear, were you planning on telling us?  So, is it just you & Liz and her mom? "Well, no, all her aunts are coming and a bunch of our friends....I'll make sure Liz sends you an invitation right away...:"  I then proceeded to cry for the next two days.  Even with a concerted effort, it would have been impossible to hurt me any more deeply.  Even if it WAS almost next to impossible for us to get there on such short notice.

Good, true friends convinced me to at least send Tim, who has years of unused vacation. He could stay with family, and at least it would be a family presence. If I stopped thinking about it, it was OK, I could live until spring. A week before he was to leave, I was having coffee with a work colleague I hadn't seen for awhile. When she asked about the status of the May wedding, I explained the situation.  She sat there, looking at me like I had three heads, and said, "Are you NUTS???? What airline is he on?" I told her Alaska.  She said, "I'm DROWNING in Alaska miles - you're going".  And with that, she whipped out her cell phone, and booked me a ticket outward bound with Tim, returning a day earlier so I, with no vacation, could get back to work.  This unbelievable gesture of grace and generosity, coupled with being offered a new job (whole other story), had people telling me I should go buy a lottery ticket.

The plan was to keep me a secret, if for no other reason than to see his reaction.  On a strangely warm, windy Friday morning, we arrived at the courthouse and I stood behind a doorway near the courtroom they'd been assigned.  Brian arrived, saw his dad and uncles, and after they said their hellos, I popped out.  Brian took one look at me, and said "Jeanne was RIGHT!" His mother-in-law, being the good mother that she is, kept telling him that it was likely I'd show up, that I'd never be able to stay away.  That was probably the best, and longest, hug we ever exchanged.

Enter the courtroom, with a sweet, doddering old judge whose every step had me thinking he'd keel over..."Who's got the license?", he asked.  Deafening silence - for a second, I thought Liz would dissolve in tears. Jeanne piped up with "Your Honor, they were told that it would be here waiting for them, that they could not take it with them...."  At which point there was a flurry of activity and phone calls from the clerk (try scaring up anyone in a Wisconsin courthouse at 11:30 on a sunny Friday during hunting season) until said license was unearthed by another clerk, who received a rousing round of applause.

As Brian and Liz stood in the front of the courtroom facing family and friends, the look on each of their faces was exactly what I wanted it to be - pure and total adoration and love. Brian did nothing but gaze at her; Liz couldn't look at him for long, because she was in danger of crying. When the important words came - "I now pronounce you..." - the joy and relief on their faces was worth every second spent raising this kid - this is what it was for.

Everyone trooped to a nearby Irish pub for lunch and celebratory beverages - a perfect end to an interesting, unique occasion that serendipity sent me to attend.

"Ya Gotta Have.....Friends..."

I have written a lot about my networks of friends, mostly from previous decades of my life.  But the last few weeks have prompted me to write about a group I've neglected for far too long - my neighborhood.

They say life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. Boy and howdy. I feel as though we moved into this house last week, and it was almost new. Blink, and it's 22 years later, and it is most definitely NOT new. But this remains the coolest, kindest, most entertaining and wonderful neighborhood ever.  And I have to pay it homage.

When we moved here, Labor Day Weekend of 1990, we were grateful escapees from California, with two young boys, looking for a new start with less stress and more money.  We moved from a veritable over-sized and overpriced closet to a huge, open, almost-new house with a rambling yard for the boys, a kitchen to die for, a 3 car garage with floors clean enough to eat off of, and a view of Mt Hood (if you crooked your head the right way out our bedroom window).  But the very best part was the neighbors that came with the house. The first week, one mom came down with a plate of cookies, her name and phone number, and the ages of her kids - just about the same as ours. Then there was a neighborhood BBQ, where not one, but three young middle school girls accosted me asking if we needed babysitters.  Could I have died and gone to heaven when I wasn't looking? 

Best Friends

These people weren't just nice on the surface, they were deeply kind and devoted, right to the very core.  Over the next twenty years, we went through everything - plumbing disasters, ER visits, even the death of one very dear friend from a heart attack in his own front yard. That took years to recover from. All of these events only served to make us closer. For the longest time, there was virtually no turnover. No one ever left. Our kids grew up together, graduated together, then left home and got married and had babies.  Occasionally, new folks would enter, through a transfer or divorce, or something else, and we would do our darnedest to invite them into the fold, which they usually welcomed.
This last weekend we held our annual summer potluck BBQ, which occurs in front of our house because we live on a cul de sac, and there's a lot of shade and open space. Almost without our noticing, instead of folks bringing their children, they were bringing their grandchildren! Wait a minute here! Didn't we just move in last week? No? 22 years ago, you say? Couldn't be.....well, maybe.....

New Year's Eve Snow

Halloween

Mom's Weekend at the Coast

Salud!

We have progressive dinners, moms' weekends at the coast, monthly library nights (almost like a book club except it's a lending library - mostly we drink, eat, and giggle), a quilting collective, and a walking group three times a week.  We keep such close tabs on each other that if you aren't seen for several days, a posse will gather to find out what's going on. Burglars know better than to mess with this place... We share recommendations - doctors, roofers, plumbers, restaurants, schools - we commiserate, we circle the wagons when someone is ill, or hurting. We celebrate milestone birthdays - in a big way - there are juicy stories about various 40th, 50th, and 60th birthdays. We do nothing halfway. I have been on the receiving end of such kindnesses more times than I can count. Regardless of the situation, I know I would only need to raise a finger to elicit the amazing care, concern, and devotion that is the hallmark of these families.

Lots of people know a good neighbor or two, but we have been so blessed, so fortunate - we have a huge family, a pod, a gaggle, a flock, of the neatest people in the whole world. So, dear fellow denizens of Tiare Hills, here's to you and many more years of living in our own little piece of paradise.  I love you to death.

"What a friend we have in time....gives us children, makes us wise..."

I should have written this two weeks ago when it was fresh, but it's been a crazy-busy summer.  So I'm just now getting to it.  So shoot me.

You may recall my post regarding a group of friends with whom I sang in high school....well, on July 14 we attended the wedding of the daughter of two of those folks. The wedding was at the home of, and catered by, the bride's uncle, who was another member of that group.  It was the first time that virtually all 12 members of Young Folk (yeah, I know, lame name....) were together in....wait for it....34 years!  To say that it was a fabulous weekend does not do it justice.  The wedding was lovely - an incredible setting on a hilltop overlooking the San Ramon Valley on a beautiful sunny late afternoon, a gorgeous bride and handsome groom, and guests of all ages, from infants to 90+ year old grandparents.

So what's the big deal? Nothing much, if you are unimpressed by a group of friends who are so in tune (!) that they can pick up where they left off without missing a beat (I'm really NOT trying to use music-related puns, it's just working out that way). It was a reunion that stopped us all in our tracks, and made us realize how deep our friendships were/are, and how fleeting our lives.  Most of us have lost at least one if not both of our parents; some unfortunate ones have lost a child.  Many have had scary, life-threatening illnesses or accidents, and multiple folks have found themselves unemployed at one point or another.  In other words, we've all had our share of bumps and bruises. But as soon as we were all in one spot, it was as though we'd never been apart.  Some have aged better than others; they were soundly criticized! What had not changed was our humor, our memories of good times past, and our love of good music and each other.  And all this did not end when the evening was over - it continued at breakfast the following morning, and at the "after party" in the afternoon, capped by a light dinner and drinks before we had to part ways.

The pictures were numerous and beautiful, for the most part....

Left to right, our "Leader", Marilyn; pianist, Fitz; vocalist, Vickie; rhythm guitar & vocals, Sharon; vocals, Rob (and 3rd of the 3 brothers); lead guitar, Jim, and drummer extraordinaire, John.

How sweet it was: What was left the next afternoon:  back row, Paul, married to Vickie; Tim, Sharon's husband; Jim; front row, Sharon; Steve and Robin (parents of the bride), and Fitz.

"Blue Eyes....Baby's got blue eyes...."

Today, July 22, 2012, our firstborn son is 30 years old. I cannot begin to explain what feelings that evokes in me. I remember the day he was born as if it were last week....20 hours after labor officially began with a rather large puddle on my bedroom floor, he was yanked unwillingly from the warm, dark, wet, safe confines in which he had become so comfortable. His birth was not what we/I had expected, nor was the rest of his life, if you want the truth.  Brian has always been a study in contradictions. So scary smart, such a dingaling.... so dear and gentle, such a temper.... so serious, such a wicked sense of humor. He is Jekyll and Hyde wrapped up in a drop-dead handsome package. And I just can't believe that so much time has flown by so quickly - I swear we just finished having his high school senior portraits taken; recently flew to St. Norbert's for college graduation; last week moved him to start his first job as an urban planner in eastern Washington.

How did this happen? What was I doing when all this maturing was going on? And if he's 30, how old does that make ME? His dad turned 30 just after Brian turned a year. That seemed normal, a 30 year old man with a year-old son. When I turned 30, I was 8 months pregnant with his little brother. Nothing unusual about that. I often projected to see what ages we would be at various times; in the year 2000, Bri would be 18, graduating from high school - the Class of 2000.... when Bri was 21, it would be our 25th wedding anniversary...when Bri was 25, Tim would be 54.... when Bri was 50, I would be 76.  Somehow, this year 30 thing never figured into those projections, which may be why I'm having such a hard time.

But perhaps the hardest part is that he will never be mine again. He has a life of his own, he is engaged to marry a lovely young woman who rocks his world, and Mom is pretty much on the fringes - as it should be. He is far away, and his world is light years different from ours. The last four years of the US economy have pretty much knocked the wind out of his sails, and it hurts to see that. I envisioned his life at 30 being one of professional accomplishment, personal contentment, and maybe a kid or two. I realize now that I have zero impact on any of that, and my job is to support him in his struggles, applaud his successes, and back off on the grandkid business.

When he was an infant, I obediently followed the instructions in the "how-to" books regarding feeding - find a quiet, restful, comfortable spot with no distractions; have something to drink within reach, and play soothing music. One of 1982's best songs was by Elton John, and it captured my feelings, and my baby, in a nutshell:  "Blue eyes, baby's got blue eyes; like a deep blue sea on a blue, blue day...."

Happy birthday, Bri.